Norway in September
by Wartooth
Summary: Pairings are KazeSawa, RyuChizu, and two OCs paired together, YukiSven. Basically: a Norwegian-Japanese student arrives at the highschool in which Kimi ni Todoke takes place, and changes the lives of Chizu, Ayane, Sawako, Kazehaya, and Ryu forever.
1. Prologue: Ryu

_This is my first story on ! This first chapter is told from the perspective of Sanada Ryu, best friend of Kazehaya Shota, and hopefully soon-to-be-boyfriend of Yoshida Chizuru. Please enjoy the story! Yes, it features an OC… please, don't kill me._

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She stood at the front of the classroom, and looked down at all of us. She was extremely tall, even taller than me, and incredibly graceful-looking. She neither grinned nor glared at us; she simply stood there, looking blank, but not confused in the least. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and said, "My name is Yuki Dahl. My family and I are from the city of Bergen, in Norway. I apologize for causing a disturbance for coming so late in the year. I hope that we will be able to get along well. Thank you."

She made an odd half-smile at the rest of us, and returned to her seat, located at the front of the classroom, right by the door. She was an extra student in class 1B, a last-minute right-after-the-summer addition. I had already heard the rumors circulating that morning, amidst the chatter about where my own peers had spent their summers, that she was from northern Europe, which explained why she was so tall, and the color of her hair, which was flaxen blonde. No one had gotten close enough to tell the color of her eyes, but we were certainly able to see her milky, pale skin. She couldn't have looked Japanese even if she tried.

One of Shota's friends, this groupie guy whose name I think must be something like Jonouchi, had said that he had heard from the girls, Kumiko and Nanami, who were from 1D, that the new girl, who had told no one her name until her introduction, was able to beat up four yakuza thugs at the same time. I don't believe any of it, personally. It doesn't concern me in any way, either way.

I'm not really the kind of guy who cares about the rumors or whatever crap my fellow students are spouting and blabbering about now. I like sitting by, observing things from close up and yet still being ignored, because everyone knows I'll never tell a soul. Or so they think, anyway. I'd rather stay silent than join the gossip game that all the girls seem to be playing. It irritates me.

Time passed surprisingly quickly until lunch, when we all tromped outside and began to eat our _bento_ boxed lunches. I sat with Shota, Chizuru, Sadako, and Ayane. We were having fun, just messing around and eating (well, they were anyway, I was more or less sitting by) and we saw the Yuki Dahl girl from our class earlier sitting alone, eating some kind of fish (judging by the smell, it must've been pickled herring or something), potatoes, and plain bread.

Sawako, who it seems can't leave the lonely, excluded, alienated, ostracized, antisocial, and whatever-else alone (kind of like Chizuru and Ayane befriending Sadako in the first place), shyly walked over to the girl and asked if she'd like to sit with us. The girl said something that probably resembled "fine" and gathered her food and bag, then walked over to us.

She was at least a head (or nearly two, in Sachiko's case) taller than all of us, even Shota and I. We were like dwarfs in her presence. It would have been different if she had been a guy, but not that much. She was still insanely tall, especially for a 15-year-old first-year. Then again, she was from northern Europe, and seemed to be eating nothing but carbohydrates and fish, judging by her lunch, so it probably wasn't unexpected.

She sat down confidently at the edge of our little circle that we had formed. Sawako suddenly burst out, "U-umm… how tall are you?" Dahl replied in a slightly almost-lively-sounding voice, "I'm six foot two." I noticed that she had to actually angle her face down quite a bit to look at Sachiko.

"Okay," said Sawako. "Umm… do you have any hobbies?" Dahl said, suddenly dreamy-looking, "I… I like playing guitar…" She looked up at the sky. Ayane asked, "If you don't mind… when did you come to Japan?" By this point, we had noticed that her Japanese was impeccable, except for a slight accent occasionally creeping into her words, a small purr, a far harsher sound than Japanese. "You said you were from N… Nor… way, right?"

The girl nodded. "I am from Bergen, which is the second-largest city in Norway. Norway is located in the far northern reaches of Europe. My mother is half-Japanese… if you were wondering why I can already speak Japanese." She always spoke extremely formally, with her back straight and her body stiff. She was probably nervous or something. No idea why, though.

"Okay," said Ayane, relieved. Shota and I were both quietly eating our lunches; Chizuru was pigging out on a small box of meat-filled onigiri. I have no idea why, but she sometimes looks even a little cute like that. It's pretty weird, I know. But she's been a tomboy, so different from the other girls, since she was a kid. We grew up together. I should know.

"You play guitar?" asked Chizuru. "One of my older brothers' friends played guitar… I think he had a something-Paul? His name was Yamamori." Dahl nodded. "That's called a Les Paul," she said. She pronounced her letter L's impeccably. She definitely had no trace of a Japanese accent. "I used to have one… but now I play a different kind of guitar."

The bell rung and we all went back inside to class. Dahl never talked to us after that, only turned back to Ayane, Chizuru, and Sachiko, and said, "Thank you for allowing me to have lunch with us," and disappeared into the crowd of students mingling and coming back into class 1B.

Little did I know that these lunches were the beginning of a long friendship between Ayane, Chizuru, Sawako, and Yuki Dahl. We would get to know her much better soon enough. To us, she would forever be remembered as the independent, unique, occasionally clashing, but always caring high school girl that she was.

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_I'm not actually sure whether Chizu has a brother or not, but I had to include it, okay? And also, this was narrated from Ryu's point of view, but from now on I'll be selecting a new (random) character to have their POV per chapter. Please write any reviews if you can, but no flaming, as this is my first fic._


	2. 1: That Night: Yuki

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This is (still!) my first story on Fan Fiction. This second chapter (well technically first, since the "first first" was a prologue) is told from of the perspective of Yuki Dahl, my three-quarters-Norwegian, one-quarter-Japanese OC (one of, as of currently, two, at the moment). Please enjoy, rate and review! All reviews are appreciated.

_Also, not really on topic, but I thought that I should say that I recently learned that I had heard the name "Norway in September" from the album "Dark Thrones and Black Flags" by Darkthrone, a Norwegian black metal band that I listen to infrequently. This fanfiction has absolutely nothing to do with the song, which is half-Norwegian, half-English, and mostly death grunts and chanting. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I just liked the name, so I remembered it and it stuck to this fanfic. Moving on… here is the fanfic._

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That night, my parents and I sat down for dinner as usual. No matter where we were, we always managed to sit down for dinner and eat plain meals of either Japanese or Norwegian traditional dishes, made by my mother or my father (or both). These meals were always bizarre, whatever country we were in, but our staple food was always pickled herring (found in both Hokkaido and Norway traditional foods), and that was all the time. We had bought potatoes from a large local farm that was run privately at a ridiculously expensive price, and white bread for the same.

My father was determined to keep the traditional foods we had long eaten in Norway on the dinner-table in Japan. Back in Bergen, my mother had always made sushi, sashimi, ramen, udon, and any other traditional Japanese foods she could get her hands on and serve us, the exact opposite of my father.

We always spoke the language of the country we were in. Of course, I had only ever been to Norway (where I was born), America (where we vacationed each summer since I was six until the past summer), and Japan (where, of course, I had just arrived). My mother had taught me Japanese as a child, and Norwegian and English were both taught in school. But even before the beginning of school at the age of six, though, my father had already begun teaching me English, for the future.

My father asked me how my first day had been. I had responded, "It was fine. I met this girl who is in the same class as me, Kuronuma Sawako, and her two friends, Yoshida Chizuru and Yano Ayane." My father had asked, "And how are you keeping up with studies at the school?" I had told him that I was doing fine; I was far past the studies of my peers, as there had been a mix-up at the school district office and they had sent me the work from the beginning of the year to the coming December instead.

I wondered briefly what kind of girl Kuronuma Sawako was. From what I had seen, she appeared to be gentle, generous, and kind, yet a shy individual herself, who was willing to "reach out" to others around her. She seemed to attract people without knowing it, as though a magnetic charge made people want to talk to her.

I entered my room, closed the door, and plugged in the guitar to the amp. It was a Gibson Flying V, my favorite. Before it, I had played an old Fender Stratocaster, then a Les Paul, and finally I had come to what it was now. I had played since I was 9, so it was six years now that I had been a guitarist. My uncle Sverre was the one who had gotten me the Fender - it was an old one of his. He had once played in a black metal band, back in Bergen, and now spent most of his time jamming and teaching others how to play that beautiful instrument.

He never taught me how to play, though: I had taught myself, the whole time, how to read music, how to plug in the stompbox and the amp, how to pick, how to move my fingers over the frets, the names of the various parts, how to hold the neck, how to use a whammy bar, how to tune it, what the names of the strings were, and pretty much everything else. The guitar was my dream, and my dream alone. The singing was a huge part of it, too. My one dream was to become a performer, a band member, a singer, a lead guitarist. Fame was what I longed for. That was why the first thing that I had done upon arriving in this city was booking a coffeeshop/club to play guitar in and sing in, in the hopes that I might even get noticed here.

That was why I fell asleep every night with my guitar in my hands, no longer hooked up to the amp, the stompbox lying forlornly on the ground, as my fingers ached and grew numb, and I continued playing those notes over and over, fingering the frets, memorizing the rhythm, seeing those patterns until I could see nothing else. I was glad I had already done all of the schoolwork before; it meant that I would have all the time in the world for my guitar.

The next morning, everything was a blur. In the morning, the schedule's easy enough: wake up, eat breakfast, and finally walk to school. The leaves were still green; after all, it was only September. But I knew that soon they would be growing brittle, and the sky would become grey, just like in Bergen during the long, heavy, cold winters. How I missed the easy feeling of Norway in the summer, looking up at the blue skies and wondering how people could ever think that it was a cold, unforgiving, wild, treacherous place!

As I passed the school gates and walked onto the school grounds, sighing, I noticed that there was a girl waiting there. Guess who? No, not Sawako, but a girl who was petite and pretty, with light golden brown hair and big brown eyes. I recognized her from the day before. She struck me as a kogal-like girl, complete with archetypical, obviously-fake dyed blonde-brown hair, innocent looks, just like a doll, seems to like shopping and gossiping a lot, judging from what I saw yesterday as she sat and laughed with her "friends".s

"Hi! I'm Kurumi from 1C! It's a pleasure to meet you!" she says brightly. I know this kind of girl: she's a barrelful of energy, a crate of dynamite ready to explode, until you piss her off, when she becomes irritable, moody, vengeful, and potentially insane. Exactly what I don't need right now. I really need her out of my personal space bubble. At my old school, I wasn't that tall, but people still told me that I didn't know my own strength. Against this girl, I'd probably be the one to take the blame if I did anything rash.

"Yeah," I say. Head straight, eyes forward, look disinterested and they'll leave you alone. That's one of the things I'd learned since yesterday. Back in Bergen, you couldn't have said I was a social butterfly, but you couldn't have said I was a wallflower either. Quiet, but I had a couple of good friends, enough social standing to get by, but not enough to be considered really "popular".

"I guess I'll see you after class," she says, as the bell rings. "See you!" She waves cutely at me. I hate girls like her, girls who pretend to be cute but are actually evil. Sort of like those pretty, pale, seemingly lifeless porcelain dolls my grandmother Frøydis showed me once, back in Norway, with the eyes that were big and blue and moved weirdly.

As I walk into class and sling my bag over the chair, I notice that a group of both girls and guys are huddled around where Yoshida, Yano, and Kuronuma sit. Kazehaya and Kuronuma aren't there yet, but Sanada is sitting in the back corner as usual, looking bored, but casually overhearing the conversation that Yoshida and Yano were having.

"I heard that you were in a Ladies gang!" said a random girl. "I heard you bloodied up an old man," said Jonouchi, one of Kazehaya's friends. "Y-yeah, I did," said Yoshida, surprised. "How'd you know? It was… I hit an old man with…"

"Oh my god!" squealed one of the girls. "It's true!" She gasped and hurried out of the classroom. The teacher, Pin, was the kind of guy who looked like a slacker who'd barely passed through high school; I wouldn't have been surprised if he was out drinking the night before, which would explain why he was so late this morning, letting the class of 1B run loose.

I casually walked over to where they were sitting and pulled up a chair. Everyone quieted. Sitting, I was only about two or three inches shorter than the smallest, shortest girl standing there. Finally, Yano broke the silence. "As for the rumors about me dating a hundred guys in junior high… are there even that many good-looking guys out there? If so, bring them to me!" To Yoshida, she hissed, "I thought you said the bicycle thing was an accident!"

Yoshida whispered back, "I was going to say I hit my grandfather with my bicycle a while ago by accident, but I never finished!" Yano snapped, "Well, why don't you say it now, then?" She never got the opportunity to, though, because at that moment, Pin happened to walk in. "Right, so… the English teacher is ill, so I'm going to have to teach it to you. First period. Ready?"

Kazehaya and Kuronuma walked in about a second later and took their seats quietly. Kuronuma was soaked, and Kazehaya had given her a towel. I walked back to my seat and sat down. Seeing me, Pin said, "Oh, that's right! You're the new student! Here, you're from England, right?" I stayed silent, but caught the chalk he threw in my direction. I walked straight to the blackboard and began to write out the translation from Japanese into English.

Twelve lines later (three stanzas of four lines), I had completed a poem titled "The Bird and the Worm" that was inside our textbook that Pin had painstakingly written out in Japanese. Most of the class was staring at me in awe.

"And by the way," I couldn't help adding to Pin smugly, "I'm from Norway, not England." I placed the chalk back in the little basket sitting by the blackboard and walked back to my seat. For the rest of the class, Pin never bothered me about my translations; they were always perfect. During that class, I practiced the fingerings to "Hellish Arpeggios" and wrote out lyrics to my new song in the book in English, Norwegian, and Japanese.

I was beginning to like this school.

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_Thanks for reading! Please R&R... it helps me!_


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